The Lorentz Transformation
by Got Scots
Summary: Daniel Faraday is building a time machine in the janitorial cloest at Oxford, but he ends up learning more about himself than time and space.
1. Prologue

**The Prologue**

The janitorial closest in the back of Oxford's Physics department had never seen so much commotion. Never before had a machine of such complication been tested in such secrecy, such haste or such limited space. Never before had a professor as prestigious as Mr Faraday been able to persuade the janitor in charge of the Physics department to leave the closet nearest Professor Faraday's classroom completely untouched. And never before had Professor Faraday felt such a shortness of breath and rush of excitement as he did now.

The professor's fingers frantically flipped through the pages of his precious journal. He concentrated on ignoring the beeping and the whirring of the machine in front of him as he searched the pages for a specific equation. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he breathed, "2.342. Come on..." Immediately, he reached his shaky fingers up and turned the dial to the right. "2.342."

The whirrs of the machine grew so loud that Professor Faraday flinched, bringing his right ear to his shoulder in an attempt to soften the noise. His eyes raced down to his notebook and then his hands flew back up to the machine, pressing buttons and typing numbers as quickly as his thoughts leapt from equation to equation.

"11 hertz…" he breathed as he punched in the final set of numbers. The machine responded in a series of concentrated beeps. Mr Faraday, who was knelt down in front of his experiment as if it were a god, slowly removed his shaking hands from the machine and stared at it in awe. "This is it…" he gasped.

Slowly, he backed away, his knees rubbing against the cold ground as he did. The machine continued to beep and suddenly a new, whizzing sound was added to the symphony of precisely synchronized beeps and bops that whirled in and out of the professor's ears. As Faraday watched in awe, a piercing, purplish white light suddenly sliced through the air in front of him and he screeched, shutting his eyes tight. The sounds of the machine grew even more intense. The buckets, brooms and cans shoved against the edge of the closet began to rattle. Faraday's head bowed, his shoulders slumped and before he could see the end of the hot, bright explosion of light, his body collapsed on the linoleum floor with a thump.

* * *

_Author's Note: So, I hope you enjoyed the first bit of this story! I really had trouble thinking of a title for the story so I just named it after this equation having to do with time and space. Please don't judge by the title. :( Also, I really do enjoy reviews--good or bad. So please review and help me make my story better! Thank you very very much!_

_-Got Scots?_


	2. The Story: Pt I

**The Story**

I am—I am… I am in a room. I am not supposed to be in this room. The—floor beneath me is shaking. My hands are shaking. I open my eyes. And I see nothing. Darkness. I groan and kick the door open with my foot. How did I know where the door was?

I am—I am nervous as the light from the hall floods in. I know that I am in the corridor near my classroom. Classroom? Do I teach? Am I a teacher?

I—am—burning. Itching. All over my arms and in my hair. The burn—consumes me—like a flame—consuming a wad of paper. I crumble. And I itch and I cry out and I scratch all across my arms and across my scalp until the itching dies. The itching feeling flickers on and off. It causes me to twitch—shudder—it hurts.

I have to stop thinking about the itching. It seems to be dying down.

I am… I am turning my head so that I can look at the leather journal lying next to me. Notes—Notes that I can't understand are scribbling themselves out on the pages. The person that wrote—these things—was obviously more intelligent than me. Drawings, maps, charts, equations and scribbles stretch for miles in front of me. I get—dizzy—and sit up. I press my back against the cold wall. I hear a faint humming. My ears are ringing, my head is spinning. I feel tears dripping from my chin.

I am—I am called—I was named—I go by the name of—I am… D. D. My name begins with D. I am—

I—

I can't remember my name.

I cry out and touch my hands to my face. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and then press my hands against my trousers to get the sticky, wet tears off of my skin. I look down and see that there is a heavy, lead apron resting on my chest where my trousers should be. Tossing the thing off of me takes a lot of—strength—but, it… literally lifts the weight off my chest.

I exhale loudly.

Finally, I see what I am looking for—what used to be a crisp, polished set of black trousers that are now caked in dust. Repulsed—I decide to wipe my hands on my blue, collared shirt instead.

The door starts to close again and I crawl over to push it back open. My hand extends—whacks against the wooden door, but suddenly I freeze. My ears hear the sound of footsteps. I hear a familiar voice and I'm… nervous when I hear it. The voice is deep and familiar and… British? The voice has a strange, British accent. The voice says, "Yes, I had assumed you went over that."

I poke—my head—out of the door just enough to see a pair of shiny black shoes. Fear grabs my throat and I quickly pull myself back in. I can't breathe very well. Something tells me that I'm doing something I'm not suppose to be doing. This makes me wonder why I'm doing it. This makes me crack the door open slowly with my fingers. I hear the voice again.

"Well, I assumed you went over it with Faraday," the British voice says as it makes its way further down the corridor. I stop and stare at the floor beneath me as soon as I hear the name. Faraday. I'm frozen with my hand sticking halfway out the door. Faraday. I frown.

* * *

"Yo, Faraday!"

My eyes were suddenly struck with horror as I continued to glance in to my locker and find my English book. I pretended not to hear Ryan making his way down the hallway, obviously shouting my name so that everyone around him would know it was time. I looked down at my sad excuse of a sixteen-year-old body—I was the kind of kid who's metabolism chugged away faster than a freight train leaving me with merely skin and bones.

Still ignoring the captain of the football team, I dipped my hand down in to my locker and rescued my English book from the assortment of papers sitting in the bottom of my locker. I set the heavy collection of American literature on top of the rest of the books I was carrying in my hands and looked up.

I probably shouldn't have ever raised my head. Otherwise, I could have saved myself the terror of looking up to find Ryan, along with the rest of the hallway, watching me. Granted, the entire hallway didn't stop to stare at the confrontation, but I could see everyone slow down their conversations and quickly glance over at us as they passed. And they had every right to watch us in curiosity, seeing as Ryan started yelling the second he approached me. "What the hell, Faraday?" he asked as he held up a paper clipped Physics project I had agreed to do for him. At the very top of the paper, Mr. Bernard had written a large, red "F".

"H-h-hey, uh—sorry—" I began.

Before I could begin to explain how I had honestly tried my hardest (which I hadn't), Ryan shoved me against my open locker. The pain was ten times worse than being shoved against a closed locker, which I had experienced plenty of times. Odds and ends of the lock, the shelf and the hinge were piercing in to my skin. My eyes widened and I nervously gasped for air. Ryan raised his forearm so that it was just below my chin. He was cutting off my air circulation quickly. I struggled to remain silent.

"You gonna explain this to me?" Ryan asked angrily. "You gonna explain how you got a damn A+ and I got an F? Huh?" He pushed his forearm further against my throat and I couldn't help but make choking noises. I pushed my sweaty palms against the books in my hand, not even attempting to break free of Ryan's hold.

"Faraday, next time—"

"Hey, hey, break it up!"

I flooded with relief when Ryan was yanked away from me by one of the gym teachers. Slumping against my locker, I focused on breathing and not on the hundreds of students who had their eyes glued to me with concern. I bowed my head down and saw Ryan's physics homework lying on the ground by my feet. I continued to stare at it until Ryan was whisked away by the gym teacher and the crowd slowly moved on, heading to class. The hallways resumed their clockwork-like motions—the same groups stopped to chat in the same circles, the same couples made out by the same lockers and the same nerds like me headed to the same classes before the bell rang.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed last time! Please let me know this time if the story is at all confusing. It's a new style of writing for me and I just want to make sure that it's not... well.. confusing._

_So for those of you who saw the finale yesterday, feel free to message me what you thought about it! I don't want to ruin it for anyone in the UK or elsewhere._

_Enjoy the chapter!_

_-Got Scots?_


	3. The Story: Pt II

**The Story: Pt II**

Faraday? My name is—Faraday?

But how is that possible? Didn't I just establish that my name began with a D? What are names for, anyway?

I realise that my fingers are still jutting out of the door, clearly visible to anyone walking past this room and staring at the floor. This room. Where is this room?

As if I will find the answer to this on the ceiling, my head snaps around and looks up. My eyes nervously scan the ceiling, the walls—and then they see it. A blinking red light not far from where I'm still frozen on all fours. All four what? Oh—yes—all fours. Legs and arms.

But there's this blinking—red—light. I marvel at it for a moment, my eyebrows lowering in thought. This light and me? We're like the moths and the outdoor lamp at the house I used to live in when I was a kid. We stay there for a few seconds—the light blinking red, reflecting it's self in the wide pupils of my eyes. I bring my fingers closer to the light. I claw at it, my fingers brushing against the hot plastic as I take in everything around me. It's a machine. It looks like a scale—you know, the things you measure weight on?—like a scale, but different. More rectangular and strange. And with more buttons.

The buttons and dials and switches—which are all very confusing to stare at—keep beeping and whirring at me as if they want me to bring my attention to them.

I don't know how I know this, but I do. I move my hand...over--so that it's now on the left side of the machine. I start typing digits on the small keypad without thinking: 1.516. I then flip a metal switch located next to the keypad. Part of me is amazed by these actions, but the other part knows exactly what it is doing. I don't stop to think about how these numbers are flying to my memory faster than my own name, I just continue to work. 1.516. I continue to feel my way around the machine, turning dials, flicking switches, until suddenly I stop. That part of my brain that had been controlling me for the past minute or so suddenly drew a blank.

In panic, I wheeled myself around, hoping to find something else. My—brain—suddenly—goes blank. My entire brain. Not just the half that knew what it was doing. My entire—brain.

I don't…

I don't, uh, know—I—don't know…

...what to do?

I bow my head down and I breathe in. I breathe out. I breath in—out.

2.342. 11 hertz. 1.516. Oscillation must be over 8.23. Room must be approximately 6 feet by 6 feet. Relationship between time and space. 2.342.

And in an instant, my mind flies from silent isolation to a whirlpool of equations. "Uhhh—" spills out of my mouth as the equations emit from my head. My hands instantly spring to the notebook by my knees. After all, that's where all these equations are coming from, isn't it? I turn back pages until I find the chart I am looking for. My eyes are struggling between the option of absorbing and reading this chart or simply staring in disbelief at the equation below it instead. The stupid, clueless side of me wins and I lock my eager eyes on the Lorentz transformation. The Lorentz transformation.

* * *

**The Lorentz transformation.** My finger tapped nervously on the bold, black text of my physics book. If my finger had wanted to emphasise the bold letters any more, it would probably caused an earthquake. However I couldn't stop tapping the page until my extended hand was called upon.

"Faraday?" Professor Rankine eyed me.

A series of thoughtless "uhh"s spouted out of my mouth as I gathered my thoughts and glanced down at the text. My fellow physics students at Oxford College who had already gotten used to my endless stream of questions turned away. The ones that didn't know me yet watched with interest as I finally began my question. "What would happen if you sent something without mass at this speed?"

"Daniel," Professor Rankine smiled as if he pitied my need to ask so many questions. "You can't send something without mass at the speed of—well, who's to say you can't. Let's just say it's never been done before."

"But it could happen—" I interjected just before he looked like he was going to start teaching again. "I mean, if you sent something _without_ mass at 299, 792, 458 metres per second, there's no way it could _gain_ mass, correct? And it wouldn't shorten in length either. The only effect it would have is… is time dilation."

"Yes, that's true," Professor Rankine's wan smile continued to glare at me. It was as if he were trying to ask, "Can we move on, now?" with only his plastic smile. In response to this I nodded my head, offering him a smile too. However my smile wasn't fed up with urgency. It was brimming with ideas.

* * *

_Author's Note: Just when you thought the story was weird, it continues to get weirder! Right? I hope that the bits in first person sound at least a little bit like Daniel Faraday. It's hard to capture what you think sombody ELSE'S thoughts might be like. Well, let me know what you thought of the chapter! Thanks!_


	4. The Story: Pt III

**The Story: Pt III**

_Ideas?_ But what were these ideas for?

The expression on my thoughtful, college-aged face remains imprinted in my mind like the fantastic explosion of fireworks after a fireworks show. What frustrates me the most is the fact that I don't know why I had taken these thoughts in to such consideration. Why had I smiled the way I had? What was it about the Lorentz transformation that made me smile like I did in that Oxford classroom?

I remember the equations perfectly. I can see them swirling rapidly around in my brain. But why had this equation been so special to me? What had it meant?

Turning to my notebook for answers, I flip through the pages, scanning them for clues. Two and a half pages after the Lorentz transformation, I come across plans. Perfectly—clear—plans explaining a large rectangular machine with what appears to be an overhead lamp sticking out of the top.

Staring down at the drawing and then up at the machine in front of me, I slowly make the connection. For reasons I can't remember, the acids in my stomach churn at the sight of this overwhelming machine. I glance down at the drawings one last time and find the letters that had been swirling around somewhere in my mind all of this time. The letters were perfectly adjacent to an arrow pointing directly at the overhead lamp. "Place over subject," the letters read.

* * *

"Place over subject…" I muttered to myself as I swung a large, overhead lamp in the direction of the infamous Eloise. At the sight of Eloise, I chided myself a bit for yesterday morning when I had blurted out the fact that I had my own cage of five or six lab rats to one of my colleagues. Word had spread quickly and jokes about my favourite lab rat, Eloise, had begun to naturally slide in to the everyday greetings I received from my fellow professors.

"Hey, Faraday, how's it goin'? I heard from Tesla that you were up all night with Eloise? What was that all about, huh?"

The part where they emphasized the name Eloise was really what got to me. The drawling emphasis they laid on it was equivalent to nails on a chalkboard—it made me tense up.

I shook my head at my habit of scattering my thoughts all over the place and quickly got back to work. I made a wobbly lean to my left to double check what my notebook had written down. "Oscillating at 11 hertz…" I announced to myself as I turned a dial on the oscillation machine. "And let's try… 2.233 today," I smiled as I flicked a few switches. The point at which I was currently at in my experiment was dependant on a series of random guesses. One day I would set the machine to 2.162, the next day I would try 2.420. Sooner or later, I was bound to discover the correct answer.

I admit, the method wasn't very scientific of me, but it was all I had to go on.

"Let's see…" I said with a suppressed amount of excitement. There was a strange feeling in me on this morning. My heart beat the message loud and clear: today was the day.

Slowly backing away from the machine, I watched as a ray of purple light was emitted from the overhead lamp. Eloise stood still for a few moments and then finally, after counting to fifteen, I saw her wet, pink nose begin to sniff the inside of the wooden maze I had placed her in.

"Alright…" I muttered as I tore off my protective apron. I raced to the wooden maze and lifted a hatch, allowing Eloise to run free.

Disappointment fell over my face as I watched her struggle in choosing the first direction. Her tiny nose tugged the rest of her little body to the left and then switched over to the right. She repeated this motion four times before deciding to crawl back in to the area she had come from.

"Damn it…" I groaned as I lifted her up from the maze and walked her back over to her cage. "Another day…" I murmured to myself as I shut the door to the cage and picked up my protective apron from the floor.

* * *

_Author's Note: I know it was incredibly short, but don't worry the next chapter will make up for it! Please review!_


	5. The Story: Pt IV

**The Story: Pt IV**

Okay.

So I named my lab rat Eloise.

But… why?

For a moment I cradle my head in my hands and let out an annoyed sigh. Annoyed—annoyed at everything. Annoyed at the fact that I named my lab rat Eloise, annoyed at the fact that I don't know what the machine in front of me is supposed to _do_, annoyed at the fact that I still don't know why I originally thought that my name started with a "d". Annoyed.

My sigh is so loud and painful that I have to stop abruptly only half way through it. I hold my breath—I think I hear footsteps.

"Hey, did you read the article they put in the newspaper about Oersted?"

At the sound of yet another British accent—this one slightly different than the first one I had heard a while ago—I lunge forward and crawl a bit closer to the door.

"Yes," a second voice muses. "It was quite nice."

There is a pause and then the second voice adds, "Do you know how Faraday is taking everything?"

"Haven't seen him lately to be honest."

"Probably out and about with Eloise," the second voice jests.

Both voices snicker at this.

It's as if they know I'm there and expect me to angrily jump out of the closet and launch myself at them.

I don't.

"Now, have off him, Wells," the first voice says as it gets further down the hall. "The man's probably dealing with a—"

From then on, I can't quite decipher how the conversation goes. But what I have heard is enough. The name Oersted is ringing in my ears—

* * *

"Oersted," I practically choked as I reached my hand off the edge of Oersted's uncomfortable sofa.

My eyes flickered open and closed and I watched a pair of khaki trousers scurry around the kitchenette that was directly perpendicular to the sofa I was lying across. "Hang in there, Faraday," the voice of the man in the khaki trousers reassured me.

I moaned as I scooted up so that my head was resting on the arm of the sofa. There was an unbearable pain throbbing in my brain. It was enough to make my face contort strangely, giving off the impression that I was going to be sick.

Oersted's khaki trousers finally approached the sofa and knelt down by my side. "Alright, sit up, Faraday," he said.

Even though I could barely understand Oersted's harsh Dutch accent at the time, I did exactly as he instructed me to do. He handed me two pills and a glass of water and urged me to take them. "Wh-what are these?" I asked nervously.

"Take them," Oersted said urgently. "Quickly."

I decided to trust the man by my side and hurriedly swallowed both pills. As soon as I did, I began gasping for air as if I had just been drowning.

"Calm down," Oersted forced a smile to stretch across his bearded face. He patted me on the shoulder and began to stand up. He took the glass of water from my hands and headed back into the kitchen.

Despite the fact that I was still having trouble breathing, he continued on with our conversation. "You know sooner or later I won't be able to do this for you anymore. Remember I'm retiring in two years," he said to me as if I was a mere five years old instead of thirty two.

"Won't be able to do what?" I asked sincerely.

"Ah." I saw Oersted smile as if he knew something I didn't. "I guess I'll give the medicine a few minutes before—"

"Won't be able to do what?" I asked again, my eyebrows lowering in confusion. I sat up higher on the sofa, desperately awaiting his answer.

Oersted addressed me solemnly as he watched me from the kitchen. "I found you collapsed on the floor in your 'lab room'. Please don't tell me you were experimenting again, Faraday." He looked at me in the same way a disappointed father might look at his son.

A sudden wave of sadness washed over me and I felt my face immediately mould into a permanent frown. "Herman…" I began, addressing him by his first name which the two of us rarely did. "I—I—"

But the man simply shook his head at me. "If someone else had found you—" He stopped short when he saw two tears racing down my cheeks. Embarrassedly, I wiped them away, trying to pass off that they were side effects of the medicine I had taken.

There was a long silence between the two of us during which I allowed the rest of my tears to roll down my face and he stared at the grey linoleum he was standing on.

Eventually, I sniffled, immediately breaking the silence between us and allowing Oersted to look up. I paused before stating in a shaky voice, "Eventually I'm going to die, aren't I?" Oersted immediately understood that I was referring to my ridiculous experimenting, not the natural cycle of life.

"Well, everybody dies, Faraday," Oersted smiled as he rested his back against the kitchen counter behind him and crossed his arms. "You're just speeding up the natural process."

"Yeah, but how many people are the cause of their own death?" I argued.

"A lot more than you think," Oersted said with raised eyebrows. "If _you_ cause a fatal car accident that's _your_ fault. If _you_ choose to be heroic and rescue a puppy from a burning building resulting in the entire building collapsing on you…"

The two of us had a quick laugh at the unlikelihood of this situation.

"And of course, well, there's suicide," Oersted added with a grimace.

"—you don't think this is suicide do you?" I asked as I stared up at him in horror.

"Well, no."

I paused to think over the situation I had been putting myself in for the past few months. I looked back up at Oersted with the same mixture of bewilderment and frustration in my eyes I had possesed before I looked away. "But I'm fully aware of the effects my tests have on me and yet I know I will continue to do them…" I scratched my head in disbelief and glanced nervously back up at Oersted. "I have to," I added.

* * *

_Author's Note: Surprised that I updated so quickly? I've been in such a writing mood so expect lots of updates! I just wanted to clarify that this story is completely AU and does not really relate to anything that happens in Lost (except for the obvious things). Also, I wanted to say that most of the characters (if not stolen from Lost) are named after famous scientists or people who have contributed to the making of Daniel's time machine in some way or another. For example, Herman Oersted got his last name from Hans Christian Oersted, the man who discovered electromagnetism. So please enjoy the rest of the chapters! Trust me, it gets MUCH more interesting from now on. I just had to establish a few main things in the first few chapters--thanks for bearing with me. :D_

_PS: You get extra points if you can tell me who any other characters are named after. :D_


	6. The Story: Pt V

**The Story: Pt V**

Suicide? I swallow hard as the thought seeps its way into my brain. Something about the word makes me scurry back to my notebook and back to the machine.

The machine is whirring and beeping louder than ever and I squint at it. I look sorry for it because I know that I'm not doing a very good job with… what ever it is I'm supposed to be doing. I tuck a strand of my shoulder-length, messy hair behind my ear and think. I flip through my journal, hoping to find some sort of clue that will remind me what I'm supposed to be doing.

With my memories flying back to me at a rate like this, I pray that I will soon be reminded of the correct procedure that this machine requires.

"Come on…" I mutter as I continue flipping through what appears to me to be incomprehensible graphs and numbers.

Suddenly I come across a page about three fourths of the way into my journal. At the very top of the page it reads in capital letters: "Instructions for Time Machine".

I blink my eyes several times to make sure that this is real.

I pull the journal closer to my eyes to make sure that this is real.

I shake my head and say, "No, no, no" because this cannot be real.

One last look up at the machine in front of me tells me that this most definitely is very, very real.

* * *

"Finally," Herman Oersted sighed as he walked in to my lab room. The room itself was actually an old classroom that hadn't been used for a few semesters. Oxford had kindly allowed me to set up a few of my experiments in the room, but warned me that they did not want to experiments to interfere with the well-being of the students. So far the only things my experiments interfered with were my lab rat, Eloise, and me.

"Finally," Oersted repeated. "You allow me to see the place where all this genius takes place."

"You've seen the room before…" I chuckled. I continued to lead the elderly professor in to the centre of the room. I smiled at the small, rectangular machine seated on the table, the overhead radiator attached to it and the wooden maze to its right.

"Yes, but you've never actually been conscious enough to explain to me what everything in here does," Herman countered.

"Heh, true," I laughed awkwardly. "But I, uh—figured—I mean, since you're going to retire this year—it just seemed like it was a-about time I… showed you?"

"Yes," he smiled. "It's about time." He encouragingly nodded to the machine on the table. "What's this?" he asked curiously.

"This?" I grinned. "This is my time machine."

Saying these words to someone other than myself for the first time felt excellent. I couldn't keep the beaming grin off of my face as I watched Herman's reaction. Something about the way the words rolled off my tongue must have brought a realistic element to them, for Herman didn't question me at all. "A time machine," he stated.

"Yes," I said as I continued to smile.

"Does it work?" he asked as he raised his grey eyebrows.

"Y-yeah," I offered. "Well… it hasn't exactly been tested on—humans?"

"I figured that," Oersted nodded his head and laughed a little. He glowered at the machine as he watched it hum softly in pensive silence. His piercing blue eyes bored in to it and he held a concentrated look on his face as if the machine was speaking to him. After a moment he asked, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Thinking that he had been expecting a demonstration this entire time, I stuttered as I reached for my journal and began turning the dial furthest left.

"No," Oersted corrected me and I glanced up from my notebook at him. He paused before asking quietly, "When are you going to test it on a human?"

"I…" I stood up straight as I awkwardly laughed at this. "I don't exactly know anyone… interested in volunteering for that kind of stuff—do you?"

The professor leant back for a moment and considered the question. After a few seconds he cleared his throat. Scratching his beard, he turned to look at me with a youthful glimmer in his eyes. "I think I might," he grinned.

* * *

_Author's Note: In the memory piece, when I describe the time machine and use the word "radiator", I'm just using the term to describe something that gives off radiation. I'm NOT talking about the stuff that heats your home. Well, other than that little confusing bit, let me know what you think of this chapter! Is Daniel Faraday very in character? To me (on Lost) there's a big difference between Faraday on the island and Faraday in his flashbacks. This is supposed to be Faraday in his flashbacks for the most part. So let me know if he seems in character! And thanks to everyone who reviews!_


	7. The Story: Pt VI

**The Story: Pt VI**

I stare at my journal in disbelief. _So this is a time machine,_ I think to myself. _Let's see if it works._

I begin to smirk as more equations sift their way into my mind. I am beginning to recover my memory and whether that is good or bad I'm not entirely sure.

These equations trickle down in to my mind and process themselves so that the mathematical section of my brain can begin commanding my finger tips, telling them what to tap, to flick and to turn.

Now I fully understand what the words "place over subject" had meant. For a brief moment I understand what I am supposed to do. The smirk continues to make its imprint on my face as I place the overhead part of the machine directly above me, just as my brain has instructed. Although I am glad to feel in control for once, the smirk slowly fades from my lips. Solemnly, I sigh--it's as if I'm tired of the part of me that was trying to smirk. I flick one last switch and the machine begins to shower me in a bright, violet beam.

* * *

I collapse into a room with a cadet blue rug and a floral sofa. As I collapse, my back hits the bottom of the sofa causing my head to jerk back and hit the cushions. My hand grabs for the shaggy, slate blue carpet and I cry out in pain.

"Daniel!" the woman standing in front of me gasps as she reaches out to help me up and make sure I'm okay. Her curly blonde hair frames her face perfectly as she stares at me in concern with her stunning sapphire eyes. I'm taken aback by the way the expression of shock is painted so beautifully on her face. "Daniel?" she repeats.

* * *

My name is Daniel.

The purple beam continues to project across my pale skin. It itches a little, but for some reason I am now smiling.

My name is Daniel.


	8. The Story: Pt VII

**The Story: Pt VII**

* * *

"Dan? You okay?"

"Eloise?"

Suddenly, I'm no longer smiling. I am back in the living room, my legs sprawled out on the floor, my head resting on the seat of the couch.

My head lifts up and my wide eyes scan the room in awe. I'm too floored to say anything at all. I have trouble breathing let alone explaining what has just happened to me.

Eloise helps me up on to her sofa and sits down beside me. "What's wrong with you, Dan?" she asks worriedly.

I'm trying to take in the environment of my old college roomate's sister's living room. I don't visit her often, so it's hard for me to imagine that I'm actually even there. I look up at the painting of a beach in Rhode Island placed in the centre of the wall on my left. Perfectly in place. Perfectly settled in the baby blue frame I had remembered from my last visit. I look to my right to see a set of two bookshelves--the book of Robert Frost poems I had given her last Christmas with the blue binding and the gold lettering was still in the right place. I see the photo on the wall of her brother is exactly where I had spotted it the last time I visited her. Mentally, the two sides of myself come to the conclusion that this is in fact Eloise's living room and that I am in fact sitting on her sofa.

But my mind also knows that it can't be that simple. I can't just be in this living room. I was just crawling around a stuffy, little closet in Oxford! "I—I—I just… what year is it?" I ask with a strange, expectant smile.

"It's 2004, Dan," Eloise says with furrowed eyebrows.

Frustratedly, I glance around the room again. "What's the date?" I ask her without looking her directly in the eyes.

"Dan, it's August 23rd, you know that," Eloise insists.

"August 23rd?" I practically leap out of the sofa in disbelief. "August 23rd! It works!" I cry. I am now halfway between sitting and standing, staring wide-eyed at Eloise in my sudden excitement.

"Daniel, calm down," Eloise says as she rests her hand on my shoulder to keep me from literally jumping up. "Now," she instructs as she continues to hold me down with her hand. "You're going to tell me what on Earth it is that you're ranting about. What do you mean when you say 'it works'?"

"The… time machine…" I practically whisper because I am so out of breath. I stare at her with awe-filled tears stirring up in the corners of my eyes.

She looks worried. "The time machine?" she double checks.

"Yes!" I cry, still not raising the volume of my voice. Emotions overwhelm me as I fight to find the right words. "I—it works!"

"Daniel?" Eloise asks tensely. "How do you know this?"

"I—_consciousness_," I begin to explain. "I know. It may be difficult to understand because I still look the same as I did on August 23rd… but, I—_consciousness_," I stress. "The time machine transports your thoughts, your mind, your consciousness to another point in your life. This," I say as I point to my head. "Is my future mind."

"Future mind?" Eloise stares at me as if I have gone mad.

"Yes, my mind from the future. My mind from September 24th, 2004."

"A month in the future?" Eloise clarifies.

"Yes—yes," I smile and begin to look around the room again.

"But, Daniel?" Eloise asks and looks at me as if she is holding something back. She nervously removes her hand from my shoulder and sets it on her lap. She fidgets with the hole in her jeans before she asks softly, "You just finished telling me how Professor Oersted was going to be the first to test the time machine. You said that he had volunteered?" She looks back at me, her eyes begging me to confirm this fact.

"Did I?" I ask fearfully.

"Yes," she nods.

I bite my lip and attempt to laugh this off. "Eloise?" I squint up at her. "Oersted is dead, Eloise. He died on September 23rd."

"What? No," Eloise seems more afraid of this fact than me. I glance at her, unsure as to why she is reacting in such a way when she has never even met Oersted. "No, Daniel, please don't tell me you're testing out the time machine on your own."

I swallow hard and straighten up. I watch her, waiting for her to expand on this.

Instead she only looks at me, waiting for me to answer.

"Yes…" I confirm. "Yes, I—yes."

She shakes her head at me and tears well up in her eyes. I'm shocked when she wraps me in a hug and sobs on to my shoulder. We've never gotten this close before and I feel butterflies start to flutter around in my stomach. I hold my breath, afraid to ask why she is doing this.

She holds back her sobs for a brief moment. She waits a bit before she whispers, "You just finished telling me how concerned you were about Oersted. You said that—that—that being the first human to be transported by the time machine was practically a suicide mission."

My eyes blink and I stare across the room.

I blink again.

* * *

There is a sudden pain stretching down my throat. I am screaming—blood drips from my nose and I attempt to catch it with my hands—it slips straight through my fingers and drips on to the part of my shoes that is exposed by my cross-legged position. There's not enough space in my brain to contain all of the pain that is ripping—through it. I cry out.

I pant and feel tears begin to roll down my face. The tears mix with the blood that has been collected in my open hand. "No," I moan to myself. "No. I changed my mind—I don't want to—do this anymore."

The purple beam stops absorbing into my skin and disappears before I can figure out where it came from. I suddenly remember writing down in my notebook the effects of time travel on my lab rats. The first time: results in rapid memory loss. The second time: results in a brain aneurysm, death.

As this realisation hits me, I am sent into uncontrollable sobs. I reach up to protect my head as if the harmful radiation is still raining down on me. When I reach to do this, I practically fall on my side. Reaching out my hand isn't enough to stop me from collapsing and hitting the floor. The cool linoleum is a somewhat soothing counter to the fiery explosion that fills my head. I kick with my feet, but hit nothing. "No…" I sob.

The door to the closet is hesitantly opened, but I can't exactly gather _how_. I see two pairs of polished black shoes hurry over to where I am sprawled on the ground. I squint up to see the faces of Tesla and Wells, the faces behind the two English voices I had heard talking earlier in the corridor.

"It's Faraday…" Wells states as he watches me worriedly over Tesla's shoulder.

Tesla reaches out to touch my shoulder and kneels down so that he's next to me. "You'll be okay, Daniel, hang in there…" he reassures me.

"No," I moan and the sobs continue to poor out of me. I burry my face in my hands. I dig my finger nails in to my forehead, hoping to channel the pain out of my system.

"What's wrong with--?" Wells begins.

"Go call an ambulance," Tesla orders.

Wells scurries out of the room and Tesla begins to ask, "How did—"

He sees me pull my hands away from my face and I whisper to him, "It works. Finish it. Please..."

My eyelids struggle to stay open and eventually give in. I exhale.

"Daniel?" Tesla's voice is urgent and loud. It hurts my ears.

I inhale.

"Daniel," Tesla insists as he shakes my shoulders. "Daniel?"

I exhale.

* * *

_Author's Note: So this is the end! Like I said, the story doesn't have much to do with the show other than I stole the character. :) And of course, Daniel Faraday would never ever die in real life because he is simply invincible! Sorry to end the story in such a deperessing way (even I'm depressed after writing it), but it was all part of the plot. This is one of my first stories written in this style (first person, present tense) and with this type of message, so please let me know what you thought of it. I'll gladly accept critizism as long as it helps with my writing!_

_Thank you Laura and Dark Dutchess for always reviewing and for keeping up with the story! I really appreciate it._


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